Not Dead Yet: The Return of the Locust
by CRUSH937
Summary: We were so close to ending this war; so close, that we thought we had. We thought that the end to this everlasting nightmare was within our reach... yet nothing could have been so far away from our grasp.
1. Chapter 1: Battle Scars

Chapter 1: Battle Scars

**A/N: Behold! My first attempt at a Gears of War fanfic! Dang it, I didn't even know this site supported videogame stories until... like... the day before yesterday? Yeah... I read some really awesome ones, which inspired me to write this one! It's actually based on a dream I had, except I was the main character. Weird... Anyway, I do not own Gears of War! (If I did, screw Marcus! Damon Baird would sooo get more screen-time, and Dom wouldn't be such a useless idiot in the game! He got me killed like fifty million times, for crying out loud! Or maybe I just suck... who knows!) Enjoy!**

It was a hot, summer day, probably during the beginning of July. I can't remember anymore, exactly. Things were still not back to the way they used to be. Not for a long shot. Then again, how could they ever? There were far too many wounds gashed upon our past to heal up so quickly, though it had already been two years since the war had ended.

Nearly every survivor found had been crammed into a large, recovered city named, "New Jacinto". It was one of the few areas that still looked like they wouldn't crumble at the touch. By now, most of the streets had been repaved, and the buildings, rebuilt.

A very large amount of people were forced to take shelter in one small building, though I still would have thought there would be no complaints, especially when comparing this to our previous living conditions. I was dead wrong, and almost literally, at that. How many times had I nearly lost my head to a full shotgun round for invading some lunatic's "personal space" now? Hell, I've lost count! Nearly everyone was always nagging at one another, trying to bite each other's heads off.

"Ungrateful idiots." I used to say to myself every time a roommate would start their daily routine of being an unappreciative jackass.

Even I, Amanda Soberani, a Stranded at age six, and a sixteen-year-old girl, knew better than to pull the trigger on someone just because their two-month-old baby wouldn't shut up. Hell, if I was to survive this newborn shit-hole, I had to stay away.

Usually, I would spend my days running errands for the incapacitated, most of them being former Gears, just to stay in their good books and stay the heck away from the death trap. In fact, that is where I found myself this very day.

Luckily for me, most people, despite the ongoing chaos in their shelters, preferred to stay out of open areas. My only guess was that they felt more comfort in closed spaces. I couldn't blame them. Open space usually meant an emergence hole.

A shiver attempted to run down my spine, but I shook it off just in time. I had played it brave as best I could throughout the whole war, even if I was shit-in-my-pants petrified. I wasn't about to let a stupid memory of a grub hole screw that up now... even if I had nearly met my end that day, when I first encountered a drone fresh from an emergence hole.

My gloved hand immediately slipped under my black shirt, allowing my fingertips, left bare by the style of the dark, leather gloves, to trace over the old scar that ran from under my breasts to my lower abdomen area. The mark stood out like a white stain against my light, golden-brown skin. That was my oldest battle scar; one I attained from desperately trying to fend off a drone by going head-on, armed only with a metal baseball bat, to protect my younger cousin, Brandon. The unfortunate part is that he had a lancer. Awesome luck, don't you think?

However, I wasn't really thinking about the price of my rash action at the moment. All that my twelve-year-old self could allow to run through the mind was defending the scrawny, loveable brat. If I ever lost him, it would be the end of the world. He was all I had left.

Even after all those years, my mind could not erase those horrid memories of jagged metal ripping and tearing at my flesh, as I let adrenaline from utter fear drench my blood, taking over my body. I kept on striking him over the head with the heavy bat, even before he began his bloody gore-fest, seeing as his original target had been my cousin.

I could not have accomplished anything by myself but getting torn to bits, though. Out of the blue, a shot rang out into the atmosphere, and hit the monstrous drone right through the temple. Surprised, I had remained frozen, the chainsaw still tangled through my insides, and it hurt like hell now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

I fell to my knees, and rolled over, but before I blacked out, I noticed a large, muscular, blonde man with a sniper, leaning over me, and attempting to dislodge the lancer from my flesh without mangling it more than it already was. It wasn't too deep, probably because the bat was knocking his lights out. Slowly, but it was doing it's job.

"Manda! Oh, no! Manda!" I heard my cousin cry, calling me by my nickname.

"Rojas, get over here! This one is going to need serious medical attention!" The blonde man called. Soon, another figure leaned beside me, but I couldn't make him out. My vision was getting blurrier by the second. However, I guessed that this man was Rojas.

"Seriously, what kind of idiot goes at it with a locust with only a baseball bat?" Rojas said, his voice a little shaky as he tied my torso in bandages to stop the heavy blood-flow.

"But you gotta admit, baby, that this girl packs some serious balls!" That voice, I distantly recognized. I thought I had heard it on a sports channel, or something.

The blonde grunted in agreement, but muttered something under his breath, which sounded very much like, "And some serious stupidity, too." For a moment, my vision cleared up, and for that split second, I saw a face that I would remember until the day I died. This man, whoever he was... I owed him my life.

**A/N: Well, hope you guys liked it! And don't forget to review, because that is how I am going to decide whether I should keep on writing or just quit it. Next school year is coming up in about a week, and I don't want to be wasting my time on a story nobody is going to read. Hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any suggestions, feel free to PM me! I love those things. They help me kick writer's block's ass!**


	2. Chapter 2: False Accusations

Chapter 2: False Accusations

**A/N: To everyone who reviewed, thank you very much! I would have thought that my first Gears of War fic would have sucked brick, but I guess not! And I will try to make every chapter longer, just like you guys suggested. Here's chapter 2, folks! I do not own Gears of War, but you already know that. Enjoy!**

July 10. Go figure, I remember! Well... I guess... how could I not? That was the date of Hell's official resurrection.

I continued to walk through the empty streets of New Jacinto, gripping the package I was delivering that day tightly to my chest. Shivers kept playing at my spine as every step seemed to echo. It was all too similar to the day I had obtained that scar, and I found myself nearly shitting my pants. If that ever happened to me again, I wouldn't make it. There would be no blond angel to rescue me again.

Come to think of it, I never did see him after that day. I remember waking up in a dump of a hospital, with countless bandages wrapped around my torso. A middle-aged nurse was standing over me with a needle that she soon proceeded to inject.

"Where is... Rojas?" I asked, twitching a bit when the needle entered my skin. I was sure my savior's name was not Rojas, but that was the only name I remembered hearing throughout the entire time.

"You mean the Gear who brought you in? That wasn't Rojas, dear. That was Corporal Baird, and he's long gone." She answered. "They've got work to do, you know."

"Shit." I muttered. "Didn't even get the chance to thank him." And so it stayed that way to this very day. I had only heard vague rumors about him, but I never saw him again.

I was so lost in thought that I hadn't even realized that I had come to a complete halt in the middle of the street.

"Oh, Manda!" A familiar voice called, but I ignored it, still lost in thought.

"Manda! Hey, Manda! Knock knock! Anybody there?" _Dang that persistent voice_, I thought as I ran my hand through my shoulder length, pitch-black hair. I was too busy picturing Baird's face, and desperately hoping I would get the chance to thank him one day, and maybe pay him back, though I failed to see how that was possible.

"Ground Walkers!" A deep voice hissed from behind, and I immediately snapped out of my daydreaming. My hand flew to the pistol I always carried at my side, and whipped around, firing like mad.

"Whoa there, Manda! Chill, will ya?" The voice from before cried, and I looked down. Sure enough, little Brandon was ducked just below my arms to avoid the wrath of my pistol. Okay, so he wasn't exactly little. I just called him that because he was super short and skinny, especially for a thirteen-year-old.

"Look, you little runt! That wasn't fucking funny!" I snapped, still fuming. However, all it took was one look at his adorable face, topped with inch-long, spiky black hair, and his large, brown eyes, and he was in my arms, squashed against my chest.

"Alright, I forgive you. Just don't ever try that again."

"In my defense, I kept calling out to you, and you wouldn't listen!"

"Humph." Was my response, as I let him go so he could catch his breath.

"Could it have been that I caught you daydreaming? Was it about... Jerome?" He teased.

"Oh, shut your trap. You, out of all people, should know that I do NOT have the hots for him." I replied, putting an arm around him and continuing to walk. Jerome was a boy around my cousin's age who kept hitting on me. I wouldn't have cared, if not for the fact that he was the most obnoxious person on the face of this planet, and kept trying to spy on me in the shower.

We spent a long time making our way through the deserted streets in silence, until he broke it. "So, what do ya got there, Manda?' He asked, pointing to the long package tucked under my right arm.

"I don't know, but it's a special delivery for Private Anderson from the COG."

"Ooh! Let me take a look!" He pleaded, reaching out.

"Nope! If it's from then COG and to a veteran, it must be something important, and judging from the size and weight, it's some kind of arm. I explained, putting the package out of his reach.

"Wow! What type of gun do you think it is?" Brandon questioned, his eyes getting wider by the second. It looked as if they would pop out straight from their sockets.

"I don't know. A sniper, maybe? It could also be a shotgun." At this, his eyes broadened all the way, and I could tell that his tiny fingers were itching just to hold it.

"Don't think so." I said firmly.

Once we got to Shelter 32, I left Brandon to continue on his way to his own building, Shelter 47. As usual, I stepped inside, just to hear the calming sounds of birds chirping, the breeze whistling... NOT!

"Why are you making this so fucking hard for me?" A woman screeched, and I plugged my fingers into my ears while trying to juggle the package. "Just tell me you love me, and that you want to be with me!"

"Why should I, bitch? It's not my fault you spread your legs and got yourself pregnant! That was your choice!" A man retorted. Oh, and this was nothing.

"Bastard! Stay the fuck away from me!" Another female shrieked, and the emptying of two whole shotgun rounds and a baby's crying followed her wail. _Now we're talking_, I thought.

More shots rang out, and I quickly made my way to the building's small living room, where Private Anderson was waiting. He was my main customer, since I respected him so much. The former Gear was in a wheelchair, but he still found ways to kick so ass. Due to him, this the only safe spot in the whole building.

"Here you go, Mr. Anderson." I said, handing him the package. He received gladly, tearing off the wrapping and then the box. Sure enough, it was a beautiful 50 cal. sniper: a longshot.

"Oh, this was my baby during the war!" He said, fingering the trigger, and then the scope. "I always hit moving targets with artery shots. It couldn't get any better than that."

"It sure is beautiful. I bet you took real good care of it." I noted.

"Of course I did!" After a while, he added, "But I wasn't the only long-range fanatic. That sun-of-a-gun, Damon Baird, was always one step ahead of me. He always challenged me to see who could shoot Drones down faster, and he always won."

"_Corporal_ Baird?" I asked.

"Who else, girl?" He assured, and my heart began to thump uncontrollably against my chest. Before I could ask Private Anderson about him, however, he gave me ten dollars for the delivery and sent me on another task.

Forgetting my question, I exited the room, entered Hell once again, and muttered, "Shit!" when I remembered about Damon. I would have to ask him later, because at the moment, I was in the middle of a raging battlefield.

I sprinted toward the door as an old man yelled and shot at a child with what looked like a piece of ham in his hands. "Get over here, bastard! You fucking little thief!" He hollered.

Apparently, he had stolen it. Still, that was no reason to open fire on a child no more than seven. He looked anorexic! Hell, if he got to it in that state, I'd say he deserved it!

I scooped up the child in my arms, and rushed out the door. He was way too slow, and I feared the worst for him. Once we were far enough from Shelter 32, I let him down, though I could still hear the old man's cursing.

"Th-thank you!" He stuttered.

"No problem, kid. Just don't try that again, unless you want to get your head blown off your shoulders." I warned. He nodded madly, and left my sight, heading toward the shelters on the furthest corner of New Jacinto.

I sighed heavily, turning my head up towards the sky. The sun was already beginning to set, and the red-orange glow of its last rays shone upon the concrete streets and every building. Everything seemed to be so peaceful. Even the yelling coming from within the shelters had subsided.

Leaning against an alley wall, I allowed a small smile to appear at my lips. _The sunset makes everything look so beautiful and peaceful,_ I thought. _How could anything go wrong?_ Oh, the irony. This must be cliched.

Suddenly, I spotted a figure speeding across the sky, heading straight over New Jacinto. My eyes widened in horror, and I gripped my pistol.

"Reaver!" I hollered, for all to hear, but as soon as I had seen it, it disappeared, having reached the darkened part of the city.

Immediately after the reaver had vanished from sight, I found many people rushing out of the buildings, each brandishing a weapon. Soon, the whole street was filled with enraged dialogue, because they came to suspect it was a joke.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, little girl!" A middle-aged man scolded.

"Yeah! You know that wasn't funny! Do you have no respect?" Accused a young and pregnant woman with a German accent.

More and more of these comments just kept on coming, until a couple of Gears broke the crowd around me. "Okay, okay. What's all this racket about?" A deep voice boomed, and everyone fell silent, clearly intimidated. There were only a few whispers here and there, saying, "Hey! Isn't that Sergeant Fenix?"

_Well, I'll be. It's Marcus Fenix, the war hero_, I thought. _He's going to give me the lecture of the century if I can't get him to believe me._

Finally, the same German girl spoke up. "This idiot over here decided to shout 'Reaver, reaver'!" She fumed as she explained her side of the story, pointing rudely in my direction all the while. "And when we came out, there was _nothing_ there! Can you believe that?"

After the Gears heard her words, Marcus eyed me with a glare, and the other took hold of my arm. "You're coming with us." The second Gear, which I realized must have been Dominic Santiago, said.

"But I'm not lying! I saw one of those fuckers! Why would I make that up?" They didn't respond to my claims until we were alone.

"Look, girl! We do not appreciate you making shit up like that!" Fenix growled angrily.

"Yeah! Do you understand how traumatizing this war has been for most people?" Santiago added.

"For everyone." I corrected.

"Apparently not for you." Marcus retorted, giving me a disgusted look.

"What the hell, man? I know what I saw! The little shit flew right over this city, and you're telling me that you didn't see it? What do you Gears do all day, anyway?" I spat, and tore away from Dominic.

The war hero sighed and rolled his eyes. "We don't have time for your bullshit kid. We were supposed to go down to Sector 4 to prevent a riot we think might take place tonight." He explained, referring to shelters 40-49.

"Oh, no! My cousin! He lives there!" I cried, and I started towards Shelter 47's direction, but a rough and calloused hand caught me by my arm and pulled me right back.

"We're not done with you." Fenix said.

"How many times do I have to tell you the truth so you'll believe me? I know I saw the thing! Why the hell would I even want to make it up? I've been through Hell and back during that war! Why would I want it to happen again?" I wailed at the top of my lungs. I was usually more discreet that this about my business, seeing as everyone tended to be so nosy in New Jacinto, but if there was one thing I could not stand, it was not being trusted. I had always kept my word in everything. This was an insult!

"That's-!" The sergeant began, but I cut him off.

"Oh, but you want proof, don't you? You want that? Then here it is!" With that, I lifted my long, sleeveless shirt up enough so that the scar would show, and I lowered my dark green sweats just a little off my hips to where it ended. "Now do you think I was fucking kidding? Huh? Do you? I had a fucking chainsaw rip through me during that war! Do you think I want that to happen to me again? Huh? Answer me!" Oh, how I lost it that day.

"Hm." Marcus grunted, indifferently, but for a split second, his eyes widened slightly, giving him away to only the sharpest of eyes. Dominic, on the other hand, had surprise written all over him.

"Eh... maybe she has gone through a little too much, and she's lost it?" Santiago suggested, his eyes not leaving my scar for a second. I was sure he'd seen worse, but this was still pretty bad. It was even more surprising that I had survived it.

"Very likely." Agreed Marcus, and he leaned over to me, and slapped me across the face. "But don't EVER speak to us like that again."

"Humph." I said, rubbing my cheek, which had a guarantee of getting swollen if I failed to massage it. He hit HARD. "But do you believe me now?"

"We believe you've gone mad!" Offered Dominic as an answer, and I threw my face into my hands to muffle my cry of frustration.

"Oh, screw you guys! When the Locust come to eat us all in our sleep, I'm going to be ready!" I declared, fingering the handle of my pistol.

"Right..." Santiago scoffed as I turned to leave them at a quick pace. I had to get to Shelter 47 before dark, and get Brandon out of there. The scrawny little excuse for a male couldn't defend himself if he was armed with a lancer against a crowd equipped with slingshots and pebbles.

**A/N: Here you have it, folks! I hope you all liked it (cause I worked my butt off on the thing)! Anyway, don't forget to review and give me some suggestions if you have any! Lots of love equals faster updates! By the way, if you caught the line I tweaked off of BioShock, then you're awesome! I kind of got it from my sister, too, though she was never in that situation. She's just plain bitchy with her boyfriend! And by the way, I got Brandon's appearance off of this kid I used to know. He was so adorable! (The type of adorable someone would call their little sib, btw! Just so you know...) **


	3. Chapter 3: Mistaken Calculations

Chapter Three: Mistaken Calculations

**A/N: And this is exactly why I love suggestions to bits, Seth Morningstar! Thank you for all the help! Hehehe... He's my official advisor! That's very useful, you know, but hands off this one! Get your own, okay? Okay. Oh, and to everyone who thought that Marcus shouldn't have hit her, he didn't HIT her. He SLAPPED her. Very different (as in different levels of strength used, because if he had actually hit her, she would have been knocked the fuck out! Trust me. I have one crazy bastard for a brother, and he's twice my age, weight, ect. Sadly I know). However, I do understand how that would STILL be OOC, and I will be more careful about future scenes with Marcus to make sure he fits the bill! Maybe I'll go back and edit it so that I can portray what I actually had in mind a little better. And thanks for the complements on my character, Fire Kunai! It's nice to know that people know that I didn't just pull Amanda out of my ass! Eventhough... I still don't see how she is all that different from any other OC's. Care to enlighten me? (No, seriously. All I did was change the average appearence because I got tired of reading about pure pail chicks. Why can't their skin be any other color?) Okay, so enough with the epic author's note! I do not own Gears of War, only my OC's and blah, blah, blah. You guys know the drill. Now, read on!**

"Stupid idiots…" I muttered to myself as I quickly made my way to sector 4 of New Jacinto. "What _do_ Gears do all day, anyway? Surely they had to see _something_!"

I could not believe that they had not trusted my word. How stupid could a person be to think that a someone who had been through so much trauma about something made up lies, using the subject of their distress as the core?

_Well, they did call you crazy, _I thought, but I quickly countered that. _No, let's admit something here. Compared to all these other people, I'm the queen of the sane! I'm not the one shoving my shotgun down somebody's throat because a slice of ham mysteriously disappeared from my sandwich._ In case you're wondering, yes. That actually happened.

"Shit…the sun's going to go down soon." I said to myself, and before I knew it, everything was covered in a metallic gray color. The sun's warm rays were gone, and the last sense of security I had left turned to ashes. During the war, I'd be caught dead at night if I were outside, and literally. This was usually around the time when I would tug Brandon around from house to house, trying to figure out which ones had light, and if the bulbs would last the night. I even remembered staying up the whole time when I was too traumatized to let my guard down to sleep, because I was afraid that a wretch would come to have its dinner. More than once, it saved both our lives.

Suddenly, I found myself sprinting through the vacant streets of the city, subconsciously checking for signs of light bright enough to keep the krill away. "What the hell?" I mumbled under my breath, catching myself, and coming to a complete stop. "Maybe… I am going crazy."

I ran my hands through my hair several times, shifting from foot to foot. Not two seconds passed, when I began to repeat the same sentence over and over. "There's no such thing as krill. There's no such thing as krill. There's no such thing as krill. Not anymore. They all died a long time ago. There's no such thing as krill…"

Time had sped by without warning, and the sky was now about one shade lighter than pitch black, and that was only due to one blinking streetlight, which I was standing under at the time. I repeated it a couple of more times before I gave in to both fear and the second nature I had acquired during the war. I whipped my pistol out, and shot at the nearest propane tank ahead of me. It exploded loudly, and the fire produced light.

Yelling could be heard from the shelter the propane tanks were nearest to. They were obviously enraged by the fact that someone had decided to come by and explode one of their only sources of power, but I couldn't help it.

With as much speed as I could muster, I sprinted towards the light, but before I got to my destination, I heard a buzzing sound around me that I knew only too well. They had gotten close to their prey.

Horror engulfed my mind as I fought to muffle my cries, and as soon as someone had come out to see what had happened to the tank, I rushed toward her and held on to her. It was the same pregnant German woman from earlier.

"What are you doing?" She asked, a kind, but surprised tone in her voice.

"It's the krill." I whispered, my arms shaking madly. She didn't respond right away. Instead, her ice-blue eyes studied me, using the firelight.

"Oh. It is you." She said, and her voice turned on a bitter, unwelcoming tone.

"But it's the krill! They're out there right now! I heard them coming for me!"

"Not this bullshit again!" The woman sighed, clearly exasperated with me. She pushed me away and was about to step outside of the light, but I caught her by the end of her knee-high, white dress.

"No!" I cried, trying to keep my voice on a low level, but failing miserably. "If you step outside, they will eat you!"

"No, they won't, you stupid girl! Why? Because they are dead!" With that, she tore out of my grip and stepped out of the lit sanctuary to stand in the dark, her arms spread out. "See? There is nothing!"

Well, that's not what I saw. Through my eyes, I could distinctly make out a flock of hungry krill zooming down from the sky. "NO! Get back into the light! Don't you hear them coming?" I yelled, going a few inches out into the dark and attempting to bring her back. Indeed, I already heard the bone-chilling sound emitted by a bloodthirsty group of krill.

Despite all my desperate tugging, by the time I had managed to make her move, it was too late. Those wretched locust species were swarming over out heads, sinking their sharp teeth into our flesh. The fire had burnt out quicker than I had expected, and I now stood defenseless. I looked down on my bloody arms, still desperately trying to shake them off, and then looked over to the German woman. Sure, she was also covered in blood, with thousands of krill feeding off her flesh, but all she did was stand there, arms crossed, and eyebrows raised.

"I-I… I am insane!" I whispered, my voice shaking uncontrollably, and the krill disappeared. My skin was suddenly not drenched in blood, and neither was she.

"Oh, you poor thing…" She whispered, and came towards me to take me in her arms. I gladly accepted her kindness, because I had to admit that I was still extremely shaken. "When you said you saw that reaver, you really meant it, didn't you? But you're seeing things, and, well… I can't say that's okay, but at least you were not lying."

Together, we entered Shelter 28's kitchen and her New Jacinto home. "Have you had anything to eat, dear?" She asked, opening the fridge and taking out what looked like left over chicken.

"N-no." I admitted, and, as if on cue, my stomach grumbled loudly.

"That could be the problem… though I doubt it, seeing as your illusion was that realistic and not just black blotches in your vision." She supposed, running her hands through her extremely short, white-blonde, curly hair. "By the way, I'm Heather Grunhaut, and you are?"

"Amanda Soberani." I answered, as she set a plate down on the table, and pulled out a chair for me to sit.

"Thank you, Mrs. Grunhaut." I said, digging in. I was starving so much, that I could have eaten a horse! Literally, too! During the war, we had to take whatever meat we could get our hands on to keep our protein levels high, even if it was a beauty of an animal you had named Bonnie, and took care of since you were little. Oh, how I missed that horse. It was the finest beast in the whole of my family's ranch.

"Please, call me Heather." She said to me, barely succeeding to keep a yawn at bay. "And sorry it's cold, but a certain someone destroyed our only heat source for the stove."

"S-sorry about that." I muttered, putting my head down just a bit in embarrassment, but not letting go of the drumstick.

"Hmmm…" Heather started. "I've seen you around before, but never with any adults."

"Yeah." I confirmed.

"Well, I'm assuming I already know what happened to them." She said, referring to my family. "So lets not go there."

"No, no. It's okay. I'm not the only one who's experienced losses before."

"But it must be hard to wrap your mind around… being all on your own like you are."

"Not completely. My younger cousin, Brandon, is still with me. The rest of my family… well… they were assassinated when an emergence hole appeared at our ranch. Only a handful survived, but most of them died off after a few years." I replied. "Even though that little brat was never much help in the battlefield, he was all that kept me going. I knew that if I died, he would be the next to go. He was just too young. Even now, his physique hasn't changed much. I still appreciate his company. I'm not going to lie about that. He's all I… I…" After I began to talk about my cousin, my words just wouldn't come out. My original objective had clicked into place once again, as I remembered with horror about the riot going on in Sector 4.

"Oh, crap!" I shrieked suddenly, making Heather jump. "I'm sorry, Heather, but I have got to go! It's an emergency!"

"Erm… the bathroom is right down that hall." She said, pointing to the right exit of the kitchen, her voice shaking just a bit at my sudden outburst.

"Um… what?" I questioned with confusion written all over my face, until I finally caught on. "Oh, no. Not that kind of emergency! However, I do have to go. Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Grunhaut!" With that, I bolted out the building, heading towards Shelter 47.

"It's Heather!" I heard her call after me, looking at me through the window.

_Great,_ I thought as I ran at top speed through the chilled night. _First, my stupid brain starts making mistaken calculations by giving birth to locust creatures out of the nothingness, and now, if I don't get my ass over to Brandon quickly, I'm going to have a hard time finding his blown out brains!_

By the time I got to the first buildings of Sector 4, all hell had broken loose. It was a full-blown war zone out there, and every now and then, I had to stop and take cover to avoid the old homemade bomb: a liquor bottle with a rag set on fire. I couldn't understand why they had decided to throw a riot, but it only bothered my mind for a couple of seconds, my main thoughts being that I had to find Brandon. If anything happened to the runt because my eyes, and all my other senses, for that matter, decided to play tricks on me, he'd probably come back to haunt me.

"Brandon!" I yelled out into the crowd. I hadn't really expected an answer, considering the fact that everything was engulfed in utter chaos, but I heard something that sounded like, 'Manda!' up ahead.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, though it was only a few minutes, I found the brat hiding behind some dusty crates. "Brandon! Oh, Brandon! I was so worried about you!" I exclaimed, pulling him into one of my bone crushing hugs, suffocating him in my chest.

"I can't… breathe!" He said, his voice extremely muffled, and I let him go.

"I'm sorry. It's just that…" I began, but I couldn't finish my sentence. I didn't have to, anyway, because he already knew the message I was attempting to convey. "Anyway, do you know why they started the riot?"

"Hmmm… Let me see. Can I enter the many minds of lunatics that live under the same roof as I when they are set on shoving a bullet down my throat?" He responded, trying to make a joke during the worst of times. Yep. That was my little cousin, all right. I cracked a smile at it. If things weren't as bad as they were, I would have laughed, but no. It really was that bad.

"Just asking. I mean… you live here. You should know."

"Well, obviously you don't have to live here to know what's going on. How did _you_ know this was going to happen?"

"Eh… long story short, two Gears told me they were on their way to stop this mess… though I don't see them anywhere."

"Huh? How did you get to talk to two Gears?"

"Believe me. It's a LONG story."

"Tell me!" Brandon whined and whined, until I gave in, seeing as we were going to be stuck here taking cover for quite a lengthy amount of time. After I told him, however, I instantly regretted it. I had even included the story about the krill, and the goose bumps on his skin became clearly visible.

"Maybe I shouldn't have told you…" I muttered.

"Nah. I guess I deserve that. It's kind of weird, though, that these sudden outbursts of trauma didn't come earlier, but after two years." He said, rather to himself than to me, and thinking very hard all the while. "Shit… maybe when I scared you today with the whole 'Ground Walkers' thing, it triggered something."

"Maybe. I was feeling insecure the whole day, though; even before you played that prank on me."

"Well maybe that was all it took to push things over the edge."

"Huh… didn't think of that." I realized, but before I could say any more, I heard a loud screech in the middle of the riot, and someone scream, "Wretches!"

Suddenly, a whole wave of people began to come our way, probably to escape the Gears, which should have been here by now, and I lost Brandon among them. _Wretches?_ _Oh, so I'm not healed yet,_ I thought miserably. _When is this ever going to end? I mean, I know it isn't real, so why is my head still messing with me?_

"Brandon!" I called out into the angry mob, but this time, I heard no response. After a while of fruitlessly trying to look for him through the swarm, I gave in and decided to think about what he would do in that situation.

"Well, Brandon's a smart kid. He'd probably go into an alley, or any clear area, to hide." With that, I made my way towards the nearest one, which was to my right hand side, away from the horde.

"Brandon?" I called out to a small figure in the alley, my voice echoing slightly on the walls. I was certain he would be here, and the figure up ahead, I guessed, was him. However, he didn't respond. He was too busy doing something, but I didn't know what for sure.

"Brandon, what the hell are you doing that is so interesting, you can't set aside for a single second to respond to me?" I questioned, starting to get frustrated. My cousin turned to me, holding something he was eating.

"Oh, Brandon! Where did you find that? Put that down! You pick things up off the floor to taste when you're a baby, not when you're thirteen!" I rebuked, and started towards him to take it away. However, He backed away with a sudden leap, and then I knew it wasn't my cousin, and that 'food' wasn't exactly picked off the floor.

"Shit, shit, shit…" I began to mutter under my breath, until I remembered that it was just one of those crazy illusions.

'Okay, I've got this." I reassured myself, my voice coming out tougher than I felt. "You're not real, so go away. I don't want to see you."

Instead of meeting my demands, though, it came closer, dropping whatever body part it was eating and started staring at me, its intent clear in its eyes._ What the hell? Why is he still here? Does that mean I have to be more confident that it's not real so it can go away?_ I thought.

All of a sudden, the creature jumped on top of me, its claws slashing at my face. It all felt so real, even if I already knew all this was an illusion. _I must look pretty retarded fighting off thin air if someone is looking at me right now, but it still hurts._ I decided.

For a second, I considered using my pistol on the wretch, but what good would it do if it were an figment of my imagination? Instead, I fought back with my fists until I came to the conclusion that melee would be useless, too. Soon, more illusionary wretches came to feast off my flesh as well, and I just stood there, trying to bear the pain of the first wretch eating away at my left leg.

It wasn't until it actually bit off a particularly large chunk of meat that I couldn't take it anymore. Tears of pain were welling up in my eyes, and I allowed a deafening cry. It all felt too real. If every time my idiotic mind decided to bring a locust to life, it hurt this much, I didn't know what I would do. At the moment, however, I extracted the pistol from my side and fired away at the darned thing.

Apparently, I was wrong. The bullet shot right through its head, and it fell dead to the ground, but another one took its place, until so many were on top of me, that I dropped to the ground myself. During the fall, unfortunately, the weapon slid off my hand and out of my reach. It didn't matter much, however. As I blacked out from the pain, I knew I would snap out of it soon.

**A/N: Huh... when I made that one German chick up, I didn't plan to turn her into a main character. Heck, she didn't even have a name! However, I think I'm going to make her as a super important puzzle piece to the story! Don't forget to review! Cause if you do, krill will come and eat your limbs off in your sleep! Muahahahaha! Why? Cause I said so! Perfect logic there, you've got to admit! Be jealous of your Sama's logic! LOL! Oh, and to Halo4Eva, don't worry. I'm just trying to get these first few chapters up and clear things off for the entry of a certain something, which I can't say (though it's pretty obvious anyway)! THEN they'll make their appearance. You'll see! That's why I'm going to try to update at top speed (with good content, of course), to get to our favorite Gears! But remember one thing: Fanfic writers feed on reviews, so keep 'em comming if you all want me to do so! And remember, if you have any suggestions, feel free to leave them on a review or send them to me in a PM!**


	4. Chapter 4: The First Casualties

Chapter 4: The First Casualties

**A/N: Cheers to chapter 4 of Not Dead Yet: The Return of the Locust! Even with high school being a pain in the ass, I've been busting my backside on this story, so (hint, hint) reviews are VERY appreciated! I do not own Gears of War, only my OC's and the storyline. Enjoy!**

"Tell me about it. From what I heard, this idiot over here was just standing there, letting the wretches have a feast. She wasn't fighting back or anything after she dropped her gun. She could have at least tried." I heard a male voice say.

"Hmmm… well, the point is that she's going to need a replacement limb or something, unless she wants to end up in a wheelchair." A high-pitched female voice with a British accent responded.

"A wheelchair? That's not a very good idea. The war's started again, and there is no way she's going to survive on that."

"Replacement limb it is, then."

"Without her consent?"

"Well, hell! Who's the fucking doctor here? Would that be you or me? " The woman responded.

"Just saying, you know?" He pointed out. Though I could not see it, I knew the woman was giving him a nasty glare.

"Just saying…." He repeated.

"Humph. Rookies… lets get to work."

With that, I felt a needle dig under my skin, and I completely lost consciousness again. It was only after several hours that I woke up, only to find myself in a hospital bed. I found Brandon sitting on a chair next to me, his head on the mattress. He was fast asleep, and I didn't want to wake him.

Therefore, I took the time to look around. Looking to my left, I noticed another person. It was none other than a sleeping Heather Grunhaut. _What is she doing_ _here_? I thought. _Then again, what am I doing here?_

_Yesterday… _My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to remember the past the day. _Okay, so I figured out I was having weird illusions, I met Heather, I found my brother at Sector 4… and then…_

I gasped and my eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets. _Wretches!_ I thought. _But wasn't that an illusion? Wait… but if it was a figment of my imagination, then what slammed me in here?_

"Brandon! Yo, Brandon!" I whispered, shaking him awake.

"What… uh?" He responded groggily, his eyes barely opening to look at me. Suddenly, however, he jumped into attentiveness, and his eyes widened. "Oh, hey! You're awake!"

"You better believe it. Now, will somebody please tell me what happened?"

"Um…" He began, and faced everything else except me. "How do I put this so you won't totally freak?"

"Oh, no. What happened?" I asked, though I was sure that I probably didn't want to know.

"Remember when you told me you were having freakishly realistic illusions?" He began, choosing his words very carefully.

"Yeah." I gulped, afraid of what I was about to hear next.

"Well, turns out that there's a twist. Apparently, not _every_ locust you saw was an illusion."

"Wait! So what you're trying to tell me is that those fuckers are still alive?" I exclaimed, and I began to remember what the two people I heard earlier were talking about.

"That's certainly part of it! The war is on again." Sighed Brandon, but he still looked like he had something else to tell me.

"What?" I questioned.

"Oh, just take a look at your leg!" He cried, and I turned to the sheets. Already, my right hand gripped the tip of the blanket, but I hesitated. What would I find?

Finally, in one fluid motion, I ripped the blankets off, and found myself unable to look away from left leg. Everything below the knee had been replaced with metal parts resembling a leg so I could still walk. These were replacement limbs.

"BLOODY FUCKING FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY LEG? EXPLANATION! NOW!" I shrieked, and heck, I must have woken up the entire hospital.

"Well… they kind of took a liking to your leg."

"So it really wasn't an illusion…" I croaked.

"Ah! But why didn't you fight back? You had your pistol with you! Why didn't you shoot at them? Hell, if I had done the same thing you did, I would need a replacement head, because you would have chewed it out worse that the wretches for not defending myself!"

I gasped as I remembered my precious gun and how it slipped from my grip. "My pistol! Did anyone pick it up?" I asked beginning to enter my frantic stage.

"Yeah." He answered, lifting up his white T-shirt and pulling my baby out from under the belt of his jean shorts.

"My baby!" I cried reaching out for it. "Thanks." He nodded.

All of a sudden, I heard the unmistakable sound of an outburst of tears. Next to me was none other than Heather Grunhaut, sobbing very loudly.

"What's wrong, Mrs. Grunhaut?" I asked as politely as I could as to not make her feel any worse. Only God knew what had happened to her.

She showed no other response that a shake of her head indicating that she didn't want to talk about it, but after a while, she croaked out a few words between breaths. "My… baby… my..." That was all I heard from her, but in a second's time, I immediately understood what had happened.

My eyes widened in horror, and my body visibly tensed. My palms also began to sweat at a ridiculous level as I attempted to fathom what losing your own creation was like on its highest level, but soon decided not to, because I felt a large wave of depression beginning to wash over me.

"I… I…" I was lost for words, and I knew that nothing I said would soothe her anyway, so I gave up. Instead, I carefully got out of bed, testing my new limb first, walked over to her, and put my arm around her.

Heather took my other hand in hers and squeezed it until I seriously thought that the circulation had stopped. Her hands were trembling viciously, and by the jerking movements on her chest, I could tell she was fighting to control herself.

"Those… stupid… wretches." She gasped in between breaths. "They… took my… my baby. Three months… but… it's still a horrible feeling." She was starting to gain control over herself once again, but now I was starting to lose it. Tears began to well in my eyes, and I struggled to keep them from falling. I honestly didn't understand how she was succeeding in suppressing her grief at the moment. Heather was one tough woman.

"D-does the f-father know?" I whispered. A whisper was all I could manage to not break into tears. I couldn't understand myself, even. I had seen much worse. Why was something like this affecting me so gradually all of a sudden?

"Huh… You mean the bastard who raped me?" Heather answered harshly, letting go of me and wiping what was left of her tears with the back of her hand. I gasped and held my breath from there.

"Well, let's put it this way. I shoved a grenade down his filthy throat so I don't think it really matters now, does it?" Heather said this with a sense of pride, and I guess I couldn't blame her for wanting to do that. However, this only brought a stream of questions into my mind.

"If the baby wasn't exactly your choice, then why did you keep it? That would be a sure hazard to you, especially in these conditions."

"It might have been the baby of a horrible man who I did not love, but it was also mine. That baby was my flesh and blood… and as a mother… I couldn't just… but it was taken away from me… just like everything… else… in this life!" With that, she burst into tears once again, and I figured that this time, there would be no cease to the water works. My eyes began to water soon, too, but I wouldn't allow the tears to fall.

From the other side of the room, I soon began to hear someone shifting uncomfortably, and I turned to face Brandon. His eyes were huge with shock, watery in grief, and he was shifting in every position he could on his chair. He was looking everywhere except at us, probably trying to find an excuse to leave or something. I knew that he didn't exactly want to be there at the moment.

"Um… I have to go to the… um… bathroom. Yeah." With that, he stood up and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Heather was still sobbing like there was no tomorrow, and I tried my best to soothe her, though I knew my attempts were futile. However, she was going to have to calm down some, because we weren't alone in the room. This place was jam-packed with many others who were in even worse shape than a carcass of a dog after being hit by a train, and one of them was in the middle of surgery._ Man,_ I thought. _This place is so screwed up. I'm not going to be surprised when my leg gets an infection and turns all green and nasty, because I'm going to know why._

"Amanda Soberani?" I heard someone call, and I turned around. A blonde nurse was standing in the doorway.

"That would be me." I answered, having to yell a little over Heather's cries, now, of frustration.

"Sergeant Fenix would like to speak to you." She informed, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Sergeant Fenix?" I questioned. She nodded in confirmation, and signaled for me to follow her down the busy halls, where medics were rushing through, carrying the injured from last night's riot. If Brandon was correct, the locust was back once again. What a time for my mind to be playing tricks on me. It was no wonder that Fenix hadn't believed me. I really was crazy, and now that I was thinking back, it made me embarrassed to show myself.

Finally, we came to face a ragged, wooden door that I suspected was where Fenix was waiting for me, but I couldn't bring myself to open it. Noticing my hesitation, the nurse pushed the door open, shoved me inside, and left, closing the door behind her.

"Yeah, I remember her. This was the crazy chick you were telling me about?" A voice said, but it wasn't Fenix's. I peered over his shoulder and found three others behind him, including a familiar blonde.

"C-corporal Baird?" I couldn't believe that my hero and I had just been about three hallways apart.

"In the flesh." He answered with a cocky tone.

"I-I can't believe it! I owe my life to you!" I said, but barely managed a whisper.

"Yeah, I know. I had to carry your literally bloody ass on my back for about fifteen miles to get you to the next hospital. Brandon too, so you better believe you owe me."

Now, normally, I would never have let someone talk to me in that manner, but Damon Baird was a special case. If it weren't for him, Brandon would have suffered unimaginably.

"Ahem!" Voiced Fenix, and we all turned to him. " You said you saw a reaver, correct?"

"Um… yeah?" I muttered.

"Which way was it headed? Do you remember?" He asked.

"It was… I… No, I imagined that. I'm going crazy. I can't trust myself with this." I responded, and everyone in the room raised an eyebrow.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Fenix questioned.

"Look, I am so sorry that I caused all that trouble. I thought I saw it but I'm having illusions. That was the first one I had, actually."

"And how do you know that what you saw was in fact an illusion?"

"Because there was one where I thought I was being eaten alive by krill, but I'm still alive. I mean-!"

"We don't care if you think you were hallucinating. Just tell us where the little shit was headed, alright?" Baird cut in. "That's all we need from you, because personally, I don't want to get bombed a couple of weeks from now. We have enough evidence to assume that those are their plans. Those damn locusts quit playing games with us a long time ago. They're aiming to kill us all in one shot now.

"Holy shit, they're going to bomb us?" I said, and Fenix nodded.

"That's exactly why we need your intel. Last time we saw them was during the riot. We found them scouting the area, but we weren't able to follow them when they retreated."

"I believe that was east. It was heading away from the sunset so… yeah. East."

"Alright. We appreciate your cooperation. You are excused." With that, I nodded, and left the room, closing the door softly behind me with only one thing on my mind. These were only the first casualties, and more were to come. We had to be ready; we had to stay sharp, and the Gears were going to need all the help they could get.

**A/N: There you have it! My appologies for lagging it on the update, but like I said, high school is a pain in the ass. Hope you likes it, and don't forget to review, because I need feedback so that I know where to take this story from here.**


	5. Chapter 5: Rejection

Chapter 5: Rejection

**A/N: No review, no update. That's just how it's going to be from now on, because I'm encountering some heavy writer's block and I'm not getting any suggestions. I'm also having trouble carrying out Baird's character. I guess I'm not the most sarcastic person in the world, so I can't come up with any good lines for him. However, there is one person I would like to show some gratitude for. Thank you, Seth Morningstar, for your reviews. **

"You want to what?" Heather questioned, eyebrows furrowed and eyes still red and puffy.

"Look, I never said I wanted to officially join the COG. I just want to help out as much as I can. Hell, I've fought against locust before. I know I can be of _some_ use."

"Amanda, you've only ever fought when it was absolutely necessary. You've never taken direct orders or went on whatever crazy suicide missions those Gears pull off! You would never make it!" She responded, trying to drill reason into my skull, but I refused to be phased by it.

"You don't need to be Gear material to help out." I replied.

"Maybe not completely, but look at it this way. We're both weak and scrawny, and Brandon's a midget!" She cried, but noticing my cousin's death glare, she added, "No offense… or anything like that. It's just that we'd never make it in the middle of a battlefield. That's just a fact we have to face."

"Yeah, so?" I muttered, trying to avoid the fact from sinking in.

"So, the moment we even try to walk next to those Gears is the moment we get the boot! Do you think it's going to be easy to get them to accept us?" Brandon voiced, picking his side. I glared at him. It half felt like betrayal, and the other half? Well, he was partially right.

"It's going to be hard convincing those stubborn old Gears, but not impossible." I answered, squeezing my eyes shut and rubbing my temples. I could feel a headache coming on, its roots consisting of every event today from my new bio tech leg to Heather's baby to the return of the locust.

Heather sighed and faced her clenched hands down on her bed, looking as if she were about to give in any second, and I mentally crossed my fingers. It took me a while to realize where this was coming from.

_ Of course! _I thought. _It's her baby's death that is making her even consider this crazy scheme! She wants to avenge him._ Coming to this realization, I decided to prod where it hurt the most, though I felt quite a bit guilty about having to do that.

"Ms. Grunhaut, we all have a reason to fight this war. Ever since E Day, we've all lost blood, whether it came from our brothers and sisters, or from our very own body, and I'm not talking about some old lancer scar." I said in a dark, low voice while tracing the old scar that marred my torso over my shirt. "You know what I mean."

Her grip on her bed sheets grew tighter in response, and for a split second, she looked as if she was going to cry out in rage, but suddenly, her hold relaxed. Still emotionally tense from my words, Heather's lips slowly parted, as if she was going to respond, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. The only noises that emerged from her throat were choked sounds.

"I guess I'll be shoving a grenade down the throat of every locust I see from now on." She finally managed to say, and I immediately took her into my arms. However, while Heather and I were having a heart to heart moment, Brandon was looking capable of homicide.

"Well, just freaking dandy! And where the heck is this supposed to leave me?" Brandon cried, outraged by our decision.

"What do you mean by that? You're coming with us, obviously." I clarified, and his enormous, round eyes just got bigger.

"To heck I am!" Brandon yelled, pointing out his physical disadvantage. "Just because we have a reason to fight doesn't mean we can! Look at me! This body wasn't meant to carry two pounds! What makes you think I can carry three? Come on, Manda! I have enough trouble surviving!"

"Oh, lighten up, Brandon! I'm sure that there's an area out there for you!" Heather insisted, and Brandon slapped his forehead.

"Oh, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, and when I do, you better believe that I'm going to come back to haunt you're ass, Manda!" He replied, giving in. We all knew he didn't really have a choice, anyway. I was going to take him with me whether he liked it or not. It wasn't like he was going to be much safer running the whole time. After all, if there was one thing I learned over the years, it's that if you kill them, they can't kill you.

"That's the spirit!" I bellowed with a little too much enthusiasm, mostly because I was getting excited about kicking some locust ass, and I soon found many heads turned in my direction. Even one of the surgeons was eyeing me with confusion plastered on his face as he completely forgot about his patient, which was now bleeding out on the hospital bed. (And just in case you're wondering how well that worked out for the both of them, let's just say the doctor failed to notice for a long time.) Lowering my voice significantly, I said, "Now, all we have to do is plan out how we're going to do this."

"I guess I'm the only sane one around here…" My cousin muttered, rolling his eyes.

The next day, when Heather was feeling a little better, we left the hospital, or more like, they kicked us out. The place was an official hell-hole; totally and utterly over crowed. It looked more like the old Stranded shelters two years back. We had only ever been there once, and to hell if we were ever going back.

"So what now, Manda? Tell me this is a miracle and that you actually have some sort of plan this time." Brandon asked as we stood just outside of the hospital, looking toward the rest of New Jacinto. The place looked more like hell than the one we had just left. The torn-up carcasses of the people killed by the wretches during the riot were still strewn across the streets, and some of them even dangled atop the roofs. The stench was so familiar, it made me sick.

"Well, I was going to do the whole, 'Of Course I Do! Try To Guess What It Is!' thing, but what the hell? I've got nothing… you?" I answered, trying to think fast about our next move so that I could hold on to at least a single strand of my dignity.

Brandon let out a long, loud sigh and slapped his forehead once again. "Well then, Manda, you've officially outdone yourself this time. You drag us into this crazy scheme and you don't even have a single idea as to how to go about it. Nice."

"Oh, just give me a minute. This isn't exactly the simplest thing in the world, you know."

"I know. It's just that you sounded so convinced about it…" He said, surveying the destruction with a grim look on his face. Heather stood at our side, with a similar expression, except that hers had a wild edge, like she was about to skin somebody alive. We both stepped away just a bit.

As we walked away from the hospital, I began to brainstorm different ways to approach the conflict, and I could tell that the others were doing the same. We sat at a couple of round tables near the COG base for better concentration, and to keep an eye out for any Gear movements. On the way, we picked up a few pistols that lay scattered across the floor. We even took a gun from a body that was hanging limply from a dumpster, still holding on to it. He wouldn't need that any more, but I still felt a tad bit guilty as we walked away with the revolver, a similar version of mine. I considered taking another man's weapon as dishonoring them, especially from the deceased, but with the whole world basically being flushed down the toilet, you had to do what you had to do.

For a long time, nothing passable occurred to me. I thought of tagging along without them knowing and helping them out whenever we could, but I knew that would never work. They would find out sooner or later and they would become suspicious as to why we were doing so. I also considered doing the same, but with their knowledge. However, they most likely would not accept us. We were nothing but civilians and ex-Stranded. They would not consider us trustworthy.

After this, however, I had no more time to think of anything, because we saw an army jeep headed out of the city gates. It was now or never. "I hate to break it to you, guys, but we're all out of time. Let's move." I said, and we quickly got up and headed out.

It took quite a bit to get the guard at the gate to let us out. He was under the orders to not let anyone outside of New Jacinto. Apparently, things were about to get back to the way they used to be, with every inch of the Earth crawling with Locust; an infestation. It was much too dangerous.

However, I made a huge scandal out of the situation, mostly because Brandon could only track that jeep so far before it drove out of sight. I told him that I had heard what was going to happen to New Jacinto, and that I personally did not want to be a witness of another ground zero in one lifetime. (I had been witness to many before.) Finally, he was taken by surprise that we knew this information, and he let us out. I guess he didn't want us alerting anyone else. It would surely start another riot, and war between humanity and the Locust was bad enough.

Knowing we had only about a minute before that car went completely out of sight, we took as many short-cuts as we could, running at top speed through the narrow streets between dilapidated buildings and towards the car. Heather was having a hard time keeping up. The effect that forced abortion had on her body was no laughing matter, and I could only imagine how painful it was.

It took us a long time to reach the car. I'm surprised we still managed to catch up to it. By that time, however, I had to support Heather by her right arm while she held her stomach, but she was strong. In a few minutes, she was back on her feet.

The jeep had come to a halt at an old, run-down building, so we were able to come even closer. There was only one problem. It was not "our" Gears who came out, but I did recognize them. They were Private Anderson's old squad (Echo), led by Sergeant Mike Everton.

"Aw, hell." I muttered. "It's not them."

"What?" Heather whispered from my right.

"This is Echo. This isn't Marcus's squad."

"Well, isn't this a bitch?" She replied, sighing. We were about to turn back, when we heard Marcus's name, and instantly, our attention turned to them again.

"Where the hell are they? Reed, is there any news from Anya as to where they might be?" Everton asked, and Corporal Donny Reed shook his head. Everton sighed and leaned on the side of the building, surveying the road from which they had come. "They were supposed to follow us right away."

Almost as if on cue, another jeep came by and parked next to theirs. Fenix, Baird, Santiago, and Cole all stepped out of the car and came forward to meet Echo. The rest of what they said to each other was inaudible, for it was extremely hushed. Soon, they laid out a map and began looking up toward all directions. After a while, they pointed toward the East and got back in the cars.

We followed them to a bunch of abandoned Stranded shelters, where the jeeps had trouble getting through. They exited the jeeps once again, and took defensive positions, pointing their weapons toward the East. Not two seconds later, the heavens were dripping with reavers, and many shots rang out. Immediately, thick, black liquid fell from the sky and drenched us all.

"Don't let any of them pass by our defense!" Marcus ordered while taking down three revers with a single bullet. As if to mock him, many reavers flew right past them. Cole and Baird cursed aloud, and turned to fire at them, but at a worse effect. Even more reavers crossed their line of defense, and we took this chance to make our move. We each whipped out a pistol and began to fire at them along with the Gears, who didn't even notice us with all the chaos going on; all except Fenix.

"What in this world do you think you're doing and how the hell did you get here?" He shouted over the sounds of bullets and exploding reavers.

"I… uh…" I was at loss for words as I totally saved Santiago's ass from being blown to bits by five reavers that he failed to shoot down. Luckily, Marcus noticed this, and the rest of the time, he told us nothing. We all began to hope against hope that this was enough to make him accept us. We saved his best friend's life, after all. This was solid proof that they could definitely use our help.

After a few minutes, we were down to three reavers, which kept pulling at each of our last nerves. None of us seemed to be able to hit it! The damned things kept fish-tailing in all directions, causing us to empty out at least five clips, and not lay a single scratch on any of those bastards. I was beginning to get frustrated Heather whipped out two weapons instead of one and went akimbo style. She took down two more reavers, but the third one escaped.

"Wow! That was too cool!" The rookie from Echo, John Wright, and Private Steve Castro cried.

"No, not fucking cool! That bastard got away!" Baird exclaimed, and immediately took out his sniper trying to see if he could still spot it, but failed.

Soon, the atmosphere grew thick with an awkward silence Brandon, Heather, and I felt eight pairs of eyes land upon each one of us.

"So, Ms. Soberani… You didn't answer my question." Sergeant Fenix pressed on. It was now or never.

"Well, you see, I… I think you Gears need all the help you can get. With the world as messed up as it is, that's going to be hard to find, so I just thought that maybe…" Every Gear present raised an eyebrow. "Look, I know that we're just kids to you and I know that we are by no means Gear material, but if you could please just give us the chance to prove ourselves… believe me. We won't disappoint you."

"Look, nice little speech you had there, kid, but you might as well shove it back up your ass, because I'm not in the mood for hearing any more of whatever bullshit you've got. We'd be caught dead getting help from inexperienced and underage civilians. Besides, who the hell do you think you are to be able to contribute even an ounce of help?" Baird said, and I flinched a bit at his harshness. I always imagined him, as my all-time hero, to be… different. How wrong I was…

"You fucking bastard! Don't you treat her that way! We're just trying to help, and from what I've seen today, you lame-asses are going to need it! You can't even shoot down a stray reaver!" Heather shouted, and stepped up to Baird until she was a foot away from his face.

"Oh, this bitch did NOT just do that…" The corporal said, and was about to continue, but Marcus immediately put an end to it.

"That's enough." He said, his tone full of authority. Turning to us, he continued. "Look, we do appreciate your help. It's more than any other civilians… or Stranded… have ever done for us, but that doesn't get rid of the fact that a Gear's tasks are still much too dangerous. You haven't even been trained."

"We do have experience, though. I've been Stranded since I was six, alone with my cousin here, at three, and we still survived. I'm sure we have the necessary skills to be of some kind of aid."

For a second, Marcus glanced at Santiago, and seemed to be considering it, but our hopes were soon thrown on the floor, and tap-danced on, because out of his mouth came a flat-out, "No."

**A/N: Well, there you have it: chapter five! I am hoping that you guys respond to my new poll. I wanted to know if I should include real weapons in the story to spice up the action. The GOW weapons, in my opinion, get kind of boring after a while seeing as they're so limited. I'd kill for a chance to include some Interventions, SPAS 12's, RPG's, AUG's, Strikers, and maybe even some AC130's in this story. You know, all that good stuff! Call of Duty fans know what I mean!**


End file.
